


The Pride Party

by femmeak221



Category: Elite (TV)
Genre: Ander Just Wants to Talk, Appearances by Guzman and Samuel, Boyfriends, Clubbing, Comfort, Coming Untouched, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Flirting, Fluff and Smut, Happy Ending, Introspective Ander, Jealous!Ander, Jealousy, Leather, M/M, Minor Violent Act, Omander - Freeform, Omar Finally Has a Good Time, Omar Just Wants To Be Free, Possessive Behavior, Rimming, The Perils of Social Media, good bros, lover's spat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:41:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26573929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/femmeak221/pseuds/femmeak221
Summary: It really shouldn't be this difficult to get Ander to go to LGBT-themed events, but Omar is fed up with fighting. So he invites Marcos to go with him instead, to which Ander doesn't take too kindly.
Relationships: Ander Muñoz/Omar Shana
Comments: 32
Kudos: 194





	1. Getting ready

Shrugging off his school jacket, Ander flopped onto the bed he shared with Omar and took off his sneakers. He let out a long sigh. It had been a long day. Two pop quizzes had caught him by surprise. Surely, his grades would be negatively affected after those tests. In addition, Guzmán had become fixated on single-handedly righting another wrong with one of their classmates. Ander felt like he had to constantly keep an eye on his friend to prevent him from doing something stupid. It was really starting to take its toll.

All in all, Ander was looking forward to spending the rest of his night doing absolutely nothing. Omar hadn’t yet arrived home from his day at school so Ander had the room to himself. He took out his cell phone and began scrolling idly through social media. Now that he was lying comfortably in bed, he didn’t feel like moving to take a shower. He reasoned that there would be plenty of time for him to do so, later.

At that moment, the door to the bedroom swung open and Omar walked through. He was talking animatedly into the speaker of his mobile phone. When he caught sight of Ander on their bed, his eyes lit up and he smiled. He hurriedly ended the phone call saying, “Of course, Marcos. Eleven o’ clock is fine. See you later!”

“Hola, nene,” Omar greeted his boyfriend.

He deposited his bookbag on the desk and crossed the room to stand in front of Ander. He leant down and Ander moved into an upright sitting position to receive Omar’s kisses on his mouth. After three light brushes of their lips, Ander’s hands found Omar’s collar and he used the grip to tug him down onto the bed with him. Omar’s body fell forward and connected solidly with Ander’s as the boys continued to kiss.

“You’re seeing Marcos tonight?” Ander asked when he finally pulled away from Omar’s tempting mouth. 

Omar made a noise of assent, finding his way onto the other side of the bed. He reached down to remove his shoes.

“We both are. Tonight is the Pride party, remember? Marcos told me that he would pick us up.”

Ander closed his eyes temporarily, muttering a silent curse. This didn’t escape Omar who regarded his boyfriend with a sharp look.

“What?” Omar demanded to know. “What’s wrong?”

Ander sighed. “Omar, I told you. I don’t want to go. I’m not ready for something like that. I’m not as...” he trailed off, gesturing vaguely.

“As what? As gay as I am?” Omar shot back, clearly hurt.

“I didn’t say that,” Ander replied.

“Well you sure as hell implied it!” Omar was getting worked up. “Why do you always do this? Why can’t we just go out and have fun together? I go to parties with your dumb friends all the time. I ask for one pride event and I get opposition!”

“Because I don’t feel comfortable being stared at by random guys, Omar! Being objectified is not fun for me. I know you like the attention, but I really don’t,” Ander snapped.

“Oh, so now I only like attention, huh?” Omar stood up abruptly, folding his arms across his chest.

Ander sat up on the bed and scrubbed at his face with his hands, his fingers working against his temples, massaging against the beginnings of a small but insistent pounding headache.

“Omar, listen. Do whatever the hell you want, okay? If you want to go to that fucking party with fucking Marcos, go ahead! But I will not be going!” Ander shouted.

Omar pursed his lips, flinging his hands into the air in exasperation.

“Whatever, man. I don’t need your permission to do anything, anyway.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Ander wanted to know.

“Just forget it, Ander. I am not forcing you to do anything. I’ll go with Marcos. That’s it.”

Something in his tone made Ander pause. Omar sounded defeated, and it was not like him to end an argument so quickly, usually one to defend his point until the end. However, Ander didn’t feel like pushing the issue, so he lay back down quickly in bed and grabbed his phone, avoiding Omar’s gaze and pretending to be occupied. Omar scoffed at his behaviour and left the room.

***

Omar had spent the rest of the evening downstairs helping Azucena with dinner preparations. Ander had fallen asleep for a short while and then had played videogames until dinnertime. The two boys had dined with Ander’s mother, only directing conversation to her, and avoiding speaking directly with each other. Azucena had recognised their lover’s quarrel, and had shrewdly kept her comments light and breezy, so as not to aggravate the teens’ moods any further. When dinner was finished, she instructed Ander to do the dishes and retired to bed.

At 10:15 p.m., Omar was fresh out of the shower, styling his hair in front of the mirror. Ander had purposefully remained downstairs watching TV and Omar understood it was to allow him the space and privacy he needed to get ready. He shook his head at how stubborn his boyfriend could be. He loved Ander, but he really couldn’t understand why the other boy got so uptight whenever Omar suggested LGBT-themed events. It was a compliment, really, that all eyes would be on Ander. Plus, Omar knew that, once it was made clear that they were a couple, most guys would behave respectfully. It was just about having fun and being in the moment. Why couldn’t Ander see that?

A faint _click_ of the door alerted him to Ander’s presence in their bedroom. Omar assumed he had come to retrieve something quickly and imperceptibly. He was therefore taken by surprise when he caught sight of Ander in the mirror above the sink. The taller boy was leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom, wearing a pensive expression. Their eyes met in the mirror. Omar waited a beat as Ander’s lips parted, as if he were going to speak. However, when Ander said nothing, Omar resumed his preparations. If Ander wasn’t ready to talk, Omar felt like he had nothing to say, either. He had long ago made his point.

Ander lingered uncertainly in the doorway. He felt his frustration building. Omar was clearly ignoring him. That realisation stung a little bit. He was uncertain of what to do, what to say. He was not about to give his blessing for Omar to attend this event. As he debated silently with himself, Ander’s eyes roved over the smooth expanse of Omar’s back on display. A fresh white towel covered Omar from his hips to the tops of his calves and Ander noticed that there were still some beads of water at the nape of Omar’s neck, just under his hairline.

Without thinking too much, Ander waited until Omar opened the mirrored cabinet before he stepped forward and dragged the tips of his fingers along the top of where the towel was resting around Omar’s hips. At the same time, his lips brushed at the back of Omar’s neck. Omar started, slamming the cabinet back closed and setting the pot of gel down.

“What are you doing?” he murmured as the flat of Ander’s palm ghosted low, over the natural dip in his back.

Instead of responding verbally, Ander made a small noise through his nose and then he pressed his own chest against Omar’s back and rested his chin on Omar’s shoulder. In the mirror, he watched as Omar raised his eyebrows. Ander was giving him that look with his big brown eyes and it was near impossible for Omar to resist. Sensing an imminent victory, Ander upped the ante by trailing his fingers upwards from Omar’s abdomen to rest large hands on his pecs and thumb at Omar’s nipples. The feeling of these movements caused Omar to gasp softly and close his eyes briefly. Ander used the opportunity to spin him around and capture his lips.

Omar responded to the kiss unreservedly, opening his mouth and pressing his tongue against Ander’s. He brought his hands up to cradle Ander’s face. Omar kissed his boyfriend lovingly, knowing that this was Ander’s way of apologising. He could think of worse ways to end a fight.

Ander was crowding in against his body, pushing him backwards into the edge of the sink. It was starting to get a little uncomfortable so he put a hand to Ander’s chest. When he felt Ander’s moan vibrating through his body, however, he stopped. Something within him responded to the sound and Omar reached down to grab at Ander’s ass to pull him in even closer against him while he devoured his mouth. When they were forced to break apart for air, the intensity in Ander’s gaze made Omar weak in the knees and he lowered his eyes to his boyfriend’s lips. 

“How do you do this to me?” Omar’s voice was soft and he shook his head in wonder. His fingers stroked over the apples of Ander’s cheeks and moved downwards to trace the curves of Ander’s answering smile. The taller boy mouthed at his fingers before initiating another heated kiss, fully intending to thoroughly make up for their earlier tiff.

However, a high-pitched ringing sounded in the bathroom causing both boys to jump apart at the noise. In his half-aroused haze, Omar recognised the sound and answered the phone call.

“Hello? Marcos? Yes, I’m almost ready,” he lied. Ander barely stifled a snort of derision, taking the opportunity to encircle strong arms around Omar’s waist, hugging him from behind. His lips tracked the line of Omar’s neck, his breath hot and ticklish against Omar’s ear.

Omar squirmed against him, trying in vain to hold the phone against his other ear. Ander’s ministrations made that impossible so he dropped the cell phone and hit the button to put the call on loudspeaker. He turned his body, unconsciously leaning into Ander’s touches and kisses.

“Are you wearing that hot new outfit we bought at the mall the other day?” Marcos’ voice came through the speaker clearly in the small bathroom.

“You know it,” Omar affirmed.

Marcos’ voice dropped an octave as he hummed in appreciation, replying, “A good choice. Your ass looked out of this world in it. Ander better watch out, cause if he’s not there to be your bodyguard, some hot guy might steal you away for the night.”

Omar laughed off Marcos’ comment. “I highly doubt that, Marcos.”

“Oh cariño, you’ll see...trust me,” came the response through the phone.

“I’ll see you in a while, yeah?” Omar ended the call and turned back to face Ander. He had a smile on his face and he intended to continue where they had left off.

He roped his arms around Ander’s neck but then he caught sight of Ander’s expression and he paused. The gentleness and love from before were replaced by suspicion as Ander regarded him with narrowed eyes.

“What’s wrong, love?” Omar ventured to ask.

“Who does that guy think he is, flirting with you like that?” The words left Ander’s mouth in an almost growl and he sounded irritated. He shrugged off Omar’s arms around his neck.

“What?” Omar was confused. “He wasn’t _flirting_ Ander. Come on.”

“And how does he already know I’m not going to be there?” Ander wanted to know.

“Well, I called him to let him know,” Omar said.

“Why did he refer to me as your ‘bodyguard’? I didn’t like that. And why is he calling you ‘cariño’? Ander voiced the two questions that were bothering him the most.

Omar huffed out a laugh. “What’s with all these questions, Ander? You’ve met Marcos before. You know what he’s like. That’s just how he talks.”

Ander remained silent, averting his gaze. Omar nudged him with his shoulder. When Ander still didn’t meet his eyes, he used his index finger to tilt Ander’s chin up. He read the look in Ander’s brown eyes and felt himself smirk a little.

“I see what’s going on,” Omar said, knowingly. “Someone’s jealous.”

“Fuck you,” Ander muttered, making a big show of rolling his eyes exasperatedly. For Omar, that was as good as an admission.

Omar threaded the fingers of one hand into the curls at the back of Ander’s head and pulled him in for a kiss. Ander allowed their lips to meet, letting Omar control the pace. After a short while, Ander stopped kissing him to ask, “Do you find him attractive?”

Omar rolled his eyes. “Seriously, Ander? What does it matter? Marcos and I are friends.”

“Stop avoiding the question.”

“Stop pushing what is clearly a non-issue.” Omar sighed, embracing his boyfriend and pressing calming lips to Ander’s forehead. “There’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“Okay,” Ander relented, relaxing into Omar’s body.

“Now, I really need to put on some clothes, because I have like ten minutes left before he gets here.”

Ander gave him a little smile. “I’ll wait for you downstairs. I want to see this outfit.”

***

“What the fuck, Omar?” Ander’s voice was incredulous. “Is that what you’re going to wear?”

Omar’s face fell. He smoothed his hands self-consciously down over the front of the outfit. It was made entirely of black leather, with sheer material running vertically down cut-outs at the sides. The cut-outs veered dangerously close to his groin, prominently displaying the dips of his hipbones. The suit ended mid-thigh, showing off Omar’s long, hairy legs and lightly muscled thighs.

“What’s wrong with it?” Omar asked.

“You’re half-naked and wearing leather,” Ander pointed out.

Omar rolled his eyes and scoffed at him. “Listen, babe, this is nothing compared to what some of the people at the club will be wearing.”

“I don’t care about other people, Omar. I care about you,” came Ander’s clipped reply. He pursed his lips disapprovingly at Omar.

Omar sighed and perched himself on the armrest of the couch on which Ander was sitting. “Don’t be like this, okay? It’s not a big deal.”

From the close range, Ander could perceive the heady scent of Omar’s cologne. “Yes, but do you have to be so...?” Ander cast his eyes wildly around the room in despair, not finding the word to finish the question without sounding judgemental.

“Hot?” Omar cheekily supplied, his eyes twinkling.

Ander scoffed and smiled despite himself. “’Exposed’ is the word I was looking for.”

Omar eyed his boyfriend, distracted by how full Ander’s lips looked in the half pout that he was wearing. He opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by a knock on their front door. Omar jumped up and ran to open it.

“Marcos!” Omar exclaimed excitedly.

“Hola guapo,” Marcos’ voice was a rich lilt, his tone familiar and endearing when addressing Omar.

Marcos entered the living room. He greeted Omar with an enthusiastic hug before kissing both of Omar’s cheeks. Then, he nodded towards Ander and gave a little wave with one hand, the other hand falling loosely around Omar’s waist. Ander noticed that neither of the boys made any move to separate themselves from each other.

“Hey. You sure you’re not up for joining us tonight?” Marcos asked Ander.

“No, tío, I’m too tired. You guys go ahead,” the lie slipped easily from Ander’s mouth. He wasn’t going to admit to Marcos the real reason behind his choice to stay at home.

“That’s too bad. Omar and I are going to dance the night away!” Marcos gave a little shimmy of his hips, bumping them against Omar’s.

As Ander watched Omar break out into a huge, easy smile, he felt a pang of something that he didn’t recognise. It made his stomach drop and he felt uneasy.

“Now let me get a good look at you...” Marcos was turning Omar around, surveying him from head to toe.

Omar stepped forward and gave an exaggerated twirl, running his hands across his own mid-section.

Marcos whistled appreciatively. “This fit is divine. Made for you, Omar.”

Ander felt himself scowl. He was unimpressed with Marcos and his cheap flattery. He was equally unimpressed with Omar’s giggling like a schoolgirl at the compliment.

“You look hot yourself,” Omar was telling Marcos.

At this comment, Ander blinked and took the opportunity to assess Marcos’s clothing choices. To him, Marcos appeared even more outrageously dressed than Omar. Clad only in very tight black skinny jeans and suspenders, Marcos’s muscled chest was bare, smooth and – _was he imagining this?_ – shiny. Ander thought he looked like a stripper about to rip faux-pants off and start a provocative dance involving hip thrusts and gyrations.

Omar swiped his fingers over Marcos’s toned abs, rubbing them together and laughingly asking, “Did you put oil on?”

Marcos waggled his eyebrows at him, causing a fresh wave of laughter from Omar. “You are too much.”

Standing off to the side, Ander watched this exchange, the feeling in his stomach rising up into his throat, hot and stifling. He didn’t appreciate the ease and familiarity that Marcos had with his Omar. He was starting to think that there was definite interest on Omar’s part as well. He could tell that Omar was attracted to Marcos with his stupidly broad chest, muscled arms and tight jeans. Those jeans couldn’t be comfortable. Who the fuck would wear something like that?

“Can I get you anything to drink? Anything you need, before we head out?” Omar was asking his friend.

Marcos shook his head, fishing his car keys out of his pocket. “No, I’m ready.”

Omar crossed the short distance to Ander, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend in a brief embrace.

“See you, Ander.”

Spurred on by the same internal feeling, Ander grabbed Omar by the hand as he was stepping away and spun him back around to face him. In a flash, he pushed their lips together in a deep kiss, eliciting a noise of surprise from Omar, who barely had time to reciprocate. However, it was enough for Ander to feel satisfied that he had shown Marcos to whom Omar belonged.

When they parted, Omar licked his lips, fixing Ander with a curious expression.

Ander met his gaze and directed his next words specifically towards Omar, “Have fun. Don’t drink too much.”

However, it was Marcos who answered before Omar could. He winked at Ander. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of Omar tonight.”

Ander forced a half smile that came off as more of a grimace. He was annoyed. He really couldn’t stand this guy.


	2. Rookie Mistakes

Almost two hours had passed. Ander was sitting on the small ledge under his bedroom window, staring unseeingly through the half-opened glass. His hand automatically brought the cigarette to his mouth and he inhaled the smoke deeply, before letting it release slowly. He was lost in thought, unable to shake the unsettled feeling from earlier.

There was something in the way that Marcos carried himself that made Ander distrustful of his intentions. He had read the seduction in the guy’s eyes whenever he had interacted with Omar. It also didn’t help that Omar seemed to find everything that came out of Marcos’ mouth to be the best joke ever.

Now that his mind had brought up Omar, he remembered him in that fucking outfit that made him look like a feast waiting to be devoured. Omar, who had just wanted one night where he could be totally himself. Omar, who had done nothing to deserve Ander’s dour looks and snappy judgemental remarks. Omar, who was the equivalent of sunshine and happiness and everything good in Ander’s life.

Ander ran agitated fingers through his curls. He was starting to feel like a terrible partner.

He reached for his cell phone and automatically clicked into Omar’s profile on a popular social media platform. He noticed that Omar had uploaded five different _stories_ already for the night. Ander swiftly tapped the button that would load the first one. The first two videos were panoramic views of the club, alive with strobe lights and pulsing dance music. In the third, two shot glasses were clinking together on a repetitive loop. Ander recognised Omar’s half-bitten fingernails holding the first glass and what he assumed were Marcos’ holding the other.

The fourth _story_ started off with a slow pan down the length of the bar, showcasing a long line of mini shot glasses filled with a blue-coloured liquid. As Ander watched, the camera angle switched. Omar and Marcos came into view. Omar was filming with one hand and he had the other hand draped around Marcos’ neck. Omar turned his head to plant a wet kiss to Marcos’ cheek and then the screen faded to black. Ander’s hands were shaking. He didn’t know why he was so affected. Maybe it was because he felt like it should be him in the video with Omar, and not some random dude.

The last video, the most recently uploaded one, seemed to be captured by Marcos. It was dark and shaky camerawork but Ander discerned Omar as the person dancing. Omar had his eyes closed and he was moving his hips to a beat that struck Ander as vaguely sexual. There were people all around him moving in a similar fashion. The camera zoomed in on Omar’s midsection and Marcos’s hand came onscreen as he ran it along the sheer material close to Omar’s hips in an intimate gesture. Omar’s eyes flew open and the video ended.

Ander angrily stubbed out his cigarette on a nearby ashtray. He had seen enough. No one would put hands on his boyfriend like that ever again. He regretted ever letting Omar leave the house with that sleazy asshole.

 _I’ll take good care of Omar tonight_.

Marcos’s words from earlier rang through Ander’s mind. Who did this guy think he was? The only person who would be “taking care” of _his_ boyfriend would be _he himself_ , Ander Muñoz.

Making up his mind, Ander swiped over his phone screen to activate the dialling keypad. Guzmán answered on the second ring and Ander got straight to the point.

“How do you feel about coming with me to a Pride Party?”

***

“Toma,” Marcos said, reappearing at Omar’s side with two more drinks in hand.

Omar flashed him a bright smile and thanked him. Marcos really was very attentive and thoughtful. The constant flashing of the lights pulsated in a rhythm that matched Omar’s heartbeat. He was having a great time. Without Ander around to scowl at his behaviour or shoot him reproachful looks, he felt free and more like himself. With Marcos, it was easy to just let loose and have fun. He was energised and alert. He was also keenly aware of eyes on him as he danced.

There was a small group of guys dancing nearby. One of them had taken a particular interest in Omar and had been studying him intently for the last twenty minutes. He was shorter than Omar, with an honest face and unruly hair that stuck out artfully in different directions. It seemed the boy had also caught Marcos’ attention and he leaned in closer to Omar to speak.

“Does that guy really think he has a chance with you?” Marcos asked, nodding slightly in the direction of the group.

“Pero ¿qué dices, tío?” In the darkness, Omar managed to sneak another look over at the boy. He raised an eyebrow at his friend and leaned in conspiratorially to say, “He’s cute. You should go over and introduce yourself.”

Marcos sipped thoughtfully on his drink. “He only has eyes for you, though,” he observed. “I can’t say I blame him.”

Omar clicked his tongue, nudging Marcos slightly with his shoulders. “I’m sure you can make him forget about me.”

“You’re unforgettable, Omar,” Marcos breathed. But he uttered this more to himself than to Omar, who didn’t hear him over the noise of the music which had picked up tempo into a kind of techno-based beat.

Omar quickly downed the rest of his drink. He took the liberty of stealing Marcos’ drink out of his grasp and finishing it off before placing the two empty glasses on the nearby bar. He was completely unaware of the hungry look in Marcos’ eyes as he watched Omar’s throat working to swallow the alcohol.

“Hey, I was drinking that!” Marcos joked lightly.

“Not anymore. We’re dancing now. If you’re not going over there to dance with him, come dance with me,” Omar stated decisively. He extended his hand and when Marcos took it, he led the other boy to an empty space on the dancefloor. 

As they moved in time with the music, Omar noticed that the group of guys had migrated closer towards them. In fact, the one who had been staring was dancing in such a way that he was moving ever closer to Marcos and Omar.

Omar motioned over to Marcos who bent his ear next to Omar’s lips to hear what he was saying over the music.

“Shit, he’s coming over here,” Omar said. “I don’t feel like going through the whole flirting and conquest thing with a stranger, Marcos. Not tonight.”

“Don’t worry,” Marcos replied. “I have a plan that will get him off our backs.”

Marcos started exaggerating his dance moves, pumping his arms wildly in the air. Omar laughed at his antics and followed him. Yet, as the song switched to a more melancholy beat, they were forced to slow down their movements. They found themselves drawing closer to each other, their bodies swaying lightly.

Marcos positioned himself behind Omar and rested his hands lightly on either side of Omar’s waist.

“Is this alright?” Omar heard him ask.

Omar quickly checked over his shoulder and realised that the guy had rejoined his friend group and was no longer looking his way.

“So far, so good,” he said, turning his head back to look at Marcos who was regarding him with a strange expression. Omar thought he recognised the look but discarded the idea as quickly as it entered his head. It wasn’t like that with Marcos. Still, it couldn’t hurt to innocently enquire.

“Is there something you want to tell me, Marcos?” he asked playfully, even as their bodies fitted together and they danced in unison.

Wordlessly, Marcos turned Omar around. Omar was now the one to wrap his arms around Marcos’ upper body. They looked into each other’s eyes for a brief moment before Marcos titled Omar’s chin up and bent to claim his lips.

***

“Just...stay here. The both of you,” Ander ordered authoritatively, looking from Guzmán to Samuel and back again for good measure. “I’m going to look for him.”

As he turned to walk away, Guzmán caught his arm. He flashed his signature grin.

“Not so fast. Now that we’re here, I think the least you can do is allow us to get a drink first,” Guzmán told Ander, leaning casually against the bar and looking for all the world like he owned the place in his dark blazer and slacks that hugged his form in all the right places.

“Judging from the way the bartender is checking you out, Guzmán, I’d say he would give you more than just a drink,” Samuel observed.

Guzmán’s smile widened and he winked wolfishly at Samuel. “Then, your drink is on me, macho.”

He was just about to make eyes at the bartender in question and turn on the charm to get free drinks when Ander snapped at him.

“I didn’t fucking come here to drink, Guzmán.”

The taller boy held up his hands in mock surrender.

“Alright, alright. Go ahead. I know your mission is to catch Omar cheating on you red-handed,” Guzmán said.

“Which, by the way, is not gonna happen, Ander,” Samuel piped up. “I’m certain Omar would never do something like that.”

“Ya, but it’s not just about Omar, is it? It’s that fucking what’s-his-face...” Ander trailed off impatiently, exhaling sharply through his nose.

He didn’t want to waste any more time so he nodded curtly at his two friends before setting off in one direction, his mind fixated on the task at hand: locate Omar Shanaa.

It didn’t take long. It was as though Ander had some kind of sixth sense that made him acutely aware of Omar’s presence within a twenty-foot radius. Once his vision adjusted to the darkness of the club, he was able to be more discerning with faces and body types. His eyes zeroed in on his boyfriend, even amongst the throngs of moving bodies.

After he located Omar, it was impossible not to recognise Marcos. Omar’s back was plastered to Marcos’ front as the two moved as a unit to the rhythm pounding through the speakers. Ander could perceive a different thrumming in his ears as blood rushed to his head at the sight of them. He started making his way determinedly over to the pair, but it was proving a difficult task to wind his way through the crowd of people in motion.

Ander was about six feet away when he saw something that made his sure steps falter. Omar had turned around, encircling his arms around Marcos’ upper back. The two exchanged words and, from his viewpoint, Ander could clearly see Omar’s face which was glowing with a soft, happy smile. As Ander watched, Marcos leaned down to capture Omar’s lips in a deep kiss. Ander saw Omar respond to the kiss, bringing his hands up to tangle in Marcos’ tresses.

Ander felt an unpleasant swooping sensation in his stomach. It was quickly replaced by a blind rage that made his blood boil. What _the fuck_ did Marcos think he was doing?

***

A vigorous tap on his shoulder caused Omar to spin around and come face to face with a very angry Ander Muñoz.

“Ander?” Omar’s eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“Hola,” Marcos also greeted Ander, who promptly ignored him.

Ander was breathing heavily, his eyes boring into Omar. His hands had unintentionally balled into fists at his side and he found that it was difficult to get any words out. He noticed that Omar had hastened to put some distance between himself and Marcos. Ander couldn’t see straight, only mentally replaying the scene he had witnessed moments earlier.

There was a growing tension in the air and it was almost suffocating, even with the loud music reverberating off the walls around them. Omar couldn’t meet Ander’s eyes.

“I see you came after all,” Marcos tried again, stepping forward to be by Omar’s side again.

This time, Ander did react, his fist connecting with the side of Marcos’ jaw in a flash. The unexpected punch sent the boy staggering backwards but he recovered quickly and was squaring up to retaliate when he felt himself being restrained by two sets of strong arms. Guzmán and Samuel had closely followed behind Ander, keeping an eye on their friend from the safety of the cover of darkness.

“What the hell?” Marcos shouted, struggling against the grip the other boys had on him. He spat blood from the cut on his lower lip where Ander had hit him.

“Easy there, campeón,” Guzmán said.

Omar had jumped into action immediately as well, but to bodily block Ander from continuing the fight. He was shouting something that Ander didn’t hear because of the ringing in his ears.

“Stay the fuck out of this! And don’t you _ever_ touch my boyfriend again!” Ander yelled at Marcos from over Omar’s shoulder.

“Ander, stop it!” Omar’s words finally registered past the rage in Ander’s mind.

They were now attracting attention from the other partygoers who had cleared a small perimeter around their little group on the dancefloor.

Ander grabbed Omar’s upper arm roughly and steered him away, darkly saying, “We need to talk.”


	3. The Consequences of Omar's Actions

Ander’s touch in the hollow of Omar’s lower back was more forceful and possessive than guiding. Omar could feel the heat of Ander’s palm as the taller boy manoeuvred them down the dimly lit hallway leading to the bathrooms. The loud noise of the music on the dancefloor faded away into a faint bass vibration as the boys entered the bathrooms.

As soon as the heavy door swung shut behind them, Ander rounded on his boyfriend, invading his personal space to angrily ask, “What the fuck is going on, Omar?”

Omar flinched as the door banged shut and he could feel that his head was beginning to hurt from the drinking and all the emotions of the last few minutes. Ander’s shouting was not helping.

“Well?” Ander insisted, mere inches from Omar’s face. He grabbed Omar’s chin between his fingers, forcing him to focus his gaze. Omar noted how flushed his boyfriend was, the tendons in his neck taut, his eyes dark with fury.

“Vale,” Omar began in what he believed was a reasonable tone in an attempt to calm the situation. He decided to take the direct approach and be honest.

“I don’t know what you think, but nothing is going on.”

Ander huffed disbelievingly, biting out, “So I didn’t just see you sticking your tongue down that prick’s throat?”

Omar sputtered indignantly. “That is a wild exaggeration, Ander! There was no tongue involved. It was only one kiss. And _he_ kissed me, so it’s hardly my fault.”

Ander looked at him incredulously, pursing his lips in frustration. He could feel his heart beating wildly at his temple.

“This has to be a joke,” he said between gritted teeth. “That’s your explanation. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Of course not,” Omar affirmed.

Ander maintained his grip on his chin for a while longer, staring at him heatedly. Omar held his gaze in a silent contest, noticing the fury, jealousy and possessiveness in his boyfriend’s eyes. He couldn’t deny that seeing Ander like this was turning him on.

Omar licked his lips, fully intending to explain to Ander that he had nothing to worry about, that Marcos was nothing more than a friend, that they were just having fun, but he never got the chance.

Ander’s stare had lowered to track the movement of his tongue and, before he could speak, Ander was crashing their lips together and pinning Omar’s body against the wall next to the door. Omar reacted, opening his mouth to allow Ander’s tongue to find his in a messy, uncoordinated kiss. Ander put every emotion he was experiencing at that moment into the intense, all-consuming kiss. 

Separating to breathe was only a brief respite, before the taller boy was cupping Omar’s face between both his hands to kiss him repeatedly whilst he pressed his full body weight in against the other boy. Trapped against the wall, Omar was helpless under Ander’s mouth and touch, his breathing becoming more laboured until he was groaning softly and panting. He brought his hands up to wrap around Ander’s midsection, smoothing his palms across the expanse of Ander’s broad back through his shirt, sealing their bodies together even tighter.

Ander could sense from Omar’s moaning how aroused he was. He brought a knee up between Omar’s legs, putting pressure on his most sensitive spot. His own raging emotions were tapering off into something more sensual and carnal as Omar automatically spread his legs wider and whimpered at Ander’s touch.

Trailing open-mouthed kisses to under Omar’s ear, Ander spoke low and rough, his long fingers questing impatiently along the front of Omar’s chest.

“How the fuck do you take this suit off?”

Omar closed his eyes and titled his head back, not answering, just enjoying the sensation of Ander’s hot breath on his skin and taking the chance to breathe. Ander bit at a spot between Omar’s chin and ear which caused Omar to tilt his head down to seal their lips together again.

Ander’s fingers were becoming more insistent in looking for an opening on the suit, even as his tongue was fully occupied sweeping every corner of Omar’s mouth. He was determined to replace every taste that was not himself there.

Eventually, Omar was able to get out, “At the side.”

He lifted one arm obediently and Ander seized the little zipper hidden in the fabric, peeling the suit down to bare most of Omar’s upper body. Ander’s nose found the hairs under Omar’s arm. As he inhaled the scent of his boyfriend, he felt himself grow harder. He ducked his head to take one of Omar’s nipples between his teeth, drawing a shudder from the boy against the wall who arched into the touch with a long keening sound.

“Ander,” Omar called, his voice sounding weak, even to his own ears. He tangled shaking fingers in Ander’s curls in a futile attempt to pull him off. “Anyone could walk in and see...”

Ander abandoned his task long enough to bite out forcefully, “Let them. I want everyone to see who you belong to.”

“Joder chico...” Omar breathed out, fully hard now and ready to let Ander do whatever he wanted to his body.

Ander wrapped a large hand around Omar’s throat to manually tilt his head upwards before he placed his mouth high up on Omar’s neck to begin sucking and biting a mark into the sensitive skin. Omar’s moans were echoing loudly in the bathroom. He barely noticed the passers-by entering and leaving the room. His only focus was on the sharp points of Ander’s teeth on his skin, soothed intermittently by Ander’s talented tongue.

When Ander was satisfied with the bright colour of the first love bite, he moved to the other side of Omar’s throat. At the same time, he fit his hand down the front of Omar’s suit. His hand connected with solid flesh and he pulled back to look at Omar.

“No underwear?” he questioned.

“Not... ah... not in this suit, babe,” Omar answered.

Ander shook his head and pushed the material down further to rest under Omar’s ass so as to give his hands better access. He palmed at his boyfriend, eliciting a strangled noise from Omar as his body bowed into Ander’s hands. When Ander began a firm stroking motion, smoothing the pre-come over the head, Omar no longer cared that he was almost fully naked in a public place. The fact that he was undressed and Ander had remained clothed in his sleeveless white tee and skinny jeans only served to arouse him even further.

“Does that feel good?” Ander’s low timbre vibrated against Omar’s opposite ear as his hot tongue snaked over the other bruise he was leaving. He never ceased his hand motions on Omar’s erection.

Omar opened his mouth and let out a shaky sigh, too turned on to give an actual response. Ander’s brought his free hand up to wrap it loosely around Omar’s throat, pressing in against his Adam’s apple.

“Answer me joder!” demanded Ander.

“Yes, fuck yesss,” Omar moaned. Just the sultry cadence of Ander’s voice and the possessive way he was handling him was enough to make his cock leak. Ander seemed obsessed with marking him in every way tonight.

“No one else can have you like this, you hear me?” Ander was twisting his hand in faster strokes now, and he abandoned Omar’s neck in favour of slipping his tongue into his boyfriend’s mouth.

Omar grasped Ander’s shoulders and held on, even as his legs started to grow weak. The pleasure was spreading through his body from deep within. He could feel his body thrumming with anticipation, the feeling building until Ander applied _just_ the right amount of pressure at the head and he was coming, his back arching off the wall and his breath washing hot into Ander’s mouth. Ander kissed him messily through it, his hands gently milking Omar’s sensitive cock until he felt his boyfriend’s body stop shaking.

Afterwards, he pulled two paper towels out of the nearby dispenser and cleaned his hands, before turning to brush back the hair that was stuck to Omar’s forehead with sweat.

Omar smiled at him contentedly, opening his mouth to speak. But Ander beat him to it to ask, “Do you think _he_ could make you feel as good as this?”

The taller boy did a poor job of concealing the bitterness in his tone. He ducked his head, avoiding Omar’s eyes.

It took Omar’s brain a while to register to whom his boyfriend was referring. He had long since forgotten anyone or anything that was not Ander and the way his hands and mouth felt on his flushed skin. He sighed and pushed at Ander’s chest until Ander was forced to take a step backwards.

As their collective breathing returned to normal, Ander leaned both hands on the wall on either side of Omar’s head and pouted at his boyfriend. It was an endearing sight and Omar fought the urge to smile. He couldn’t believe that Ander was this insecure. Ander, who had been all swagger and confidence when seducing Omar with his words in the early stages of their relationship. Ander, who had the features of a Greek God by anyone’s standards in any century, and who was often the subject of attention from guys and girls alike at Las Encinas.

“Cabrón,” Omar chided him. “Do we have to do this now?”

Ander shrugged. “I mean, I know you were enjoying it, but I can’t stop thinking about you kissing him, Omar.”

Omar puffed out a breath of air and slumped his shoulders against the wall supporting his weight. “I know. It was stupid. We were pretending to be a couple to avoid any unwanted attention. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

He wrapped his arms around Ander’s waist and searched his eyes for a long moment.

“Maybe I should have come with you, then. And not left you to go with him,” Ander said after a while.

“I’m sorry,” Omar looked up. “I got caught up. It meant nothing to me.”

He leaned in to plant a tentative kiss on Ander’s mouth, seeking forgiveness. Ander met him halfway, kissing him back thoroughly, sucking Omar’s bottom lip in between his teeth. He was still wound up, in more ways than one, and his hips rocked forward of their own accord, seeking friction. As their lips lingered over each other’s, Omar’s hands moved to Ander’s front and he cupped at his groin. There was definitely a hardness there that pleased the shorter boy.

“Omar,” Ander freed his mouth to call him out.

“Hmmm?” Omar put on his most seductive look and peered up at Ander through thick eyelashes. He wet his lips and dropped his voice. “I could take care of that for you. With my mouth.”

Ander exhaled slowly, using what little remaining self-control he had left to gather the material that was resting on Omar’s lower half to pull it back up and tuck Omar back into the suit.

“As tempting as that offer is, we’re going to have to continue this later. I want to take you apart tonight, have you scream my name and make you never forget that you’re mine.” Ander’s pupils were dark with lust as he uttered these words.

“How the fuck do you expect me to wait that long?” Omar whined. It was his turn to pout now.

“Consider it your punishment,” Ander replied, giving him a half-smile.

***

When the two boys emerged moments later, Ander took Omar’s hand in his and began leading him through the dancing crowd. He made a beeline for the bar where he had expressly told their friends to wait. Yet, upon arrival at said bar, only Samuel was there, sitting on a stool with a glass of scotch in front of him.

“¿Y Guzmán?” Ander asked him as soon as they were within earshot.

Samuel nodded over to a darkened corner of the bar. It was difficult to make out faces, but there was a guy of roughly Guzmán’s height and build sitting and leaning back against the plush wall, with his hand outstretched in front of him. Ander squinted, following the hand down to a head that was bobbing up and down in a familiar motion.

“With the bartender, really?” Ander groaned.

Samuel spread his hands wide and shrugged. “You guys were taking your sweet time.”

Omar was looking thoroughly confused, so he sought answers from Samuel.

“Wait, why are you and Guzmán here again?”

In response, Samuel pointed a finger at Ander. “Ask your boyfriend. He couldn’t stand not being without you for one night.”

Omar looked at Ander quickly, recalling the way his hands had burned across his skin minutes earlier. He said nothing, hoping that Samuel wouldn’t notice the bruises on his neck. Ander didn’t flinch at the comment.

“Yeah, well I didn’t realise Guzmán would ask you to drive,” Ander said sulkily.

Samuel’s face broke into a wry smile. He leaned forward and said, “So, I’m not supposed to tell you this, but Guzmán technically can’t drive for another six weeks. He got pulled over for a DUI the other day.”

“Oh my God. I swear it’s like having to babysit a five-year-old,” Ander complained. “Why did you let him go off with the bartender?”

“He’s a big boy, he can choose who he wants to suck him off,” Samuel said.

“So, what are we supposed to do now? Just wait?” Omar asked.

“I need a drink,” Ander muttered, signalling the nearest bartender and flinging himself onto an empty barstool.


	4. Assurances

Half an hour later, Guzmán reappeared, looking slightly dishevelled but thoroughly satisfied. The bartender was nowhere to be seen.

“Ah, you guys are back!” he exclaimed loudly upon seeing Ander and Omar.

Ander scowled at him and stood up at once, reaching into his back pocket and fishing out some bills from his wallet to leave on the counter as payment for his drink.

“Time to go home, then?” Guzmán asked, brightly.

“It’s up to Ander if...” Omar started to say.

Guzmán’s eyes twinkled in amusement as he gave Omar a once-over, shrewdly noticing the love bites on the other boy’s neck. He interrupted to say, “Of course it’s up to Ander. You’ll do anything he wants, won’t you?”

The double meaning did not go unnoticed. Even by the dim lighting of the room, everyone saw Omar’s cheeks colour. Ander moved imperceptibly to stand at his side, slipping an arm around Omar’s waist and using the grip to turn him towards the exit.

“Yes, it’s time we leave,” Ander announced, directing his next question to Guzmán. “Are you good to drive?”

Samuel stepped forward quickly. “I’ll drive. I don’t trust Guzmán at all. Plus, I only had the one drink.”

He held out his hand, waiting for Guzmán to give him the car keys.

“Probably for the best,” Guzmán agreed, handing the keys over to Samuel. “But obviously, I am co-piloting.”

“Hang on, where’s Marcos?” Omar asked suddenly.

Ander made an impatient noise through his nose, his grip on Omar’s waist tightening. He turned his head back to look at Guzmán in a silent request for him to answer Omar’s question.

“I’m pretty sure he left right after,” Guzmán informed.

Samuel nodded quickly in agreement, telling Omar, “You can check in on him later.”

***

They were all piled into Guzmán’s car, with Samuel behind the wheel. Guzmán couldn’t stop laughing at the adjustments Samuel had to make to be comfortable while driving, as he was considerably shorter than the other boys.

“Will you just shut the fuck up for five minutes?” Samuel was yelling in annoyance.

“You’re sure you can see over the hood there?” Guzmán’s teasing was relentless.

In the relative quiet and dark of the back seat, Omar and Ander were sitting closer together than was strictly necessary. As their companions started a fresh argument about which radio station to tune into, Omar slipped a hand under Ander’s shirt to feel the warmth of his skin.

Ander started slightly, fondly murmuring, “Your hands are always so cold.”

“I can fix that,” Omar replied quietly and he dragged his fingers horizontally across Ander’s abdomen, delighting at the feel of the muscle under his touch.

Ander’s hand covered his over the material of his shirt and he took the opportunity to steal a kiss. Omar responded in kind, and soon they were fully entangled in each other, wet tongues connecting, noses gently bumping together. They barely registered the car moving as Samuel drove.

Omar’s hands slipped lower to deftly undo the button of Ander’s jeans and ease the zipper down. Seconds later, Ander felt him begin to rub at him insistently over the fabric of his underwear. As his body began to respond to the touch, he licked more forcefully into Omar’s mouth and pushed his hips up into Omar’s caresses.

A breathy moan caught Guzmán’s attention and he turned to see that Omar was almost lying on top of Ander, his hand buried between their bodies.

“Fucking hell, you two,” he groaned. “Can’t you at least wait till we drop you off?”

Omar turned his head towards Guzmán, never ceasing what he was doing. This motion caused Ander’s lips to dance along his cheek and Ander didn’t deign to look at the boy in the front seat. He flipped Guzmán off blindly, more focused on making his boyfriend shiver by running his tongue along the shell of Omar’s ear. His fingers were pressing in against the sheer material and running down the curve of Omar’s hipbones. The boy squirmed under this touch, hissing out, “Getting hard in leather is the fucking worst.”

He felt Ander’s lips move against his cheek and then Ander was whispering in his ear, “Can’t wait for you to take off the suit when we get home.”

A sudden sharp brake jerked them all forward and Ander grabbed onto Omar by the waist to prevent him from falling.

“Pero qué coño haces, Samu?” Guzmán asked.

“I thought he was going to cross the road!” Samuel said indignantly. “I’m not a _murderer_.”

“’He’? You mean the dog that just tried to run across?” Guzmán pointed out dryly.

Samuel swallowed thickly and didn’t answer, keeping his eyes fixed on the road.

“Madre mía,” muttered Guzmán, bringing a hand up to his forehead.

The rest of the ride passed without further event (for which everyone was grateful) and when Samuel pulled into Ander’s front yard, Omar was the first to exit. Ander followed closely behind him, not in the slightest bit bothered that his zipper was still undone.

***

As soon as the front door shut behind them, Ander grabbed the back of Omar’s neck and hauled him in for a long kiss. He began walking them backwards through the living room in an attempt to get them up the stairs to his bedroom. Omar moved easily with him, both his hands gripping Ander’s waist. When they reached the bottom of the staircase, he reached again for Ander’s dick which was hard from the attention in the backseat of Guzmán’s car. Ander moaned loudly into Omar’s mouth at the contact and the shorter boy drew back to shush him.

“Shhh, we don’t want to wake up your mother!”

“Can you not bring up my mother right this instant?” Ander whispered back heatedly.

“Come,” Omar took him by the hand and led him upstairs.

Finally, they were in a private setting. Both boys regarded each other hungrily for a moment before Ander sprang into action, tugging at the little zipper at the side of Omar’s suit. As each inch of Omar’s skin was slowly revealed, Ander’s full lips followed, across his collarbone, down the curve of his shoulder, leaving tantalising little bites from one nipple to the other.

Omar’s fingers were in his boyfriend’s hair and he was emitting soft groans at the attention. Soon, he was stepping out of the suit entirely, standing naked in front of Ander, whose eyes were raking appreciatively up and down his body. The taller boy reached a hand down to automatically adjust himself in his jeans. He was uncomfortably hard at this point.

“Your turn, babe,” Omar said, closing the short space between them.

He helped divest Ander of his shirt and shuck his jeans and socks off. When it came to his boxers, Omar dropped to his knees and eased the material slowly over the curve of Ander’s ample ass. He inhaled quickly through his nose at the sight of Ander’s erection, and wasted no time in tasting him from root to tip. He did this a couple more times, looking up to find Ander staring down at him, his pupils blown wide with lust. Omar opened his mouth and swirled his tongue tightly around the head of Ander’s cock, causing the taller boy to emit a low sound in the back of his throat that sounded suspiciously like Omar’s name.

Encouraged that he could make Ander feel this good, Omar doubled his efforts, sucking hotly at Ander’s thick cock. He snuck a hand down to pull at his own erection, the taste and weight of his boyfriend on his tongue driving him wild. Omar loved having Ander like this, at his mercy. He moved lower to mouth and lick at Ander’s balls. At this, Ander’s body jerked forward in pleasure and then he was threading long fingers into Omar’s hair and feeding more of his aching cock into Omar’s warm mouth.

“Ah por Dios, Omar. Así...así…”

Ander’s voice was wrecked. He had been on edge for too long. His hips were pushing forward unconsciously as he lost himself to the feeling, causing more of his length to enter repeatedly into Omar’s waiting mouth. Omar’s hands flew up to grasp at Ander’s ass cheeks as purchase when the taller boy started pressing his cock rhythmically down his throat. When he felt Omar swallow around the head of his cock, Ander threw his head back, his fingers tightening uncomfortably in Omar’s hair. 

With a wet sound, Omar withdrew from Ander’s dick, leaving it shiny, red and engorged. Ander hooked a hand under Omar’s forearm and helped him to his feet. His eyes were fixated on Omar’s lips which were swollen and wet from his actions seconds earlier.

“This isn’t fair,” Ander breathed out, not releasing his grip on Omar’s arm. “I was supposed to be showing you that you’re mine. But you always know exactly how to make me fall apart.”

“I am only yours, Ander... yours to use however you want me,” Omar responded swiftly.

Ander closed his eyes briefly, muttering more to himself than to Omar, “Joder.”

Omar gave Ander a filthy smile, his tongue playing purposefully along the inside of his bottom lip, as he anticipated that Ander’s next move would be to kiss him senseless.

However, Ander chose to spin him around and guide him onto his stomach on their bed. He could hear the slick sounds of Ander stroking himself and he didn’t have to wait long before Ander began dropping small kisses along the backs of Omar’s thighs, moving upwards to kiss over one of his cheeks. Even with these tiny touches so close to his ass, Omar was completely unprepared for Ander suddenly spreading him wide apart and licking a wet stripe over his hole. Omar’s back arched off the bed and he let out a guttural groan at the contact. From somewhere down between his legs, he heard Ander chuckle.

“I take it you like that?” Ander was definitely teasing him now. He knew that Omar loved it when he used his tongue in his most intimate place.

“Anderrrr...” Omar started to reply but when Ander repeated the motion with his tongue, he was rendered speechless.

“Didn’t I say I was going to take you apart? Make you never want anyone else to touch you again?” Ander hummed against his skin, pushing the tip of his tongue against Omar’s entrance. He drew back to watch the ring of muscle flutter before diving back in to breach Omar.

Omar was finding it increasingly difficult to breathe, both from Ander’s words and his actions. Just the wet sounds of Ander’s mouth alone were enough to make his cock twitch, let alone how good the intimate act felt. He arched his back further, reaching down to grasp a handful of Ander’s curls. Ander’s answering moan sent vibrations throughout his body from the point at which they were connected and Omar’s thighs were soon shaking with the effort of not coming right then and there.

Ander was relentless, his talented tongue spearing the ring of muscle over and over in order to relax and prepare Omar. It was dirty and messy but oh so hot. When Omar felt like he could take no more, a plea fell from his mouth without him thinking about it.

“Ander, por favor.”

Ander gave one last lingering lick and then he was flipping Omar over onto his back, his eyes boring into Omar’s as he gripped the base of his own cock and started to feed it into his boyfriend. There was a pleasant stretch and a slight burn as he was breached, even after Ander’s efforts to loosen him up, but Omar wasn’t complaining. He locked his legs around Ander’s waist, his heels resting loosely on the shelf of Ander’s ass as Ander bottomed out inside of him, searching his boyfriend’s face for any sign of discomfort.

Omar stroked sure fingers over the mole under Ander’s eye and wiggled his hips a little to let Ander know he could move. Ander was propped up on his forearms over Omar and he bent down to claim his lips in a bruising kiss as he withdrew slightly and rocked his hips forward again, filling Omar up completely. The feeling of being stretched so full by Ander was a powerful one. Ander mouthed down into the hollow of Omar’s neck and he put both hands on either side of Omar’s hips to anchor his thrusts deeper.

Omar had his mouth open and his eyes closed in rapture. He was panting, occasionally calling out Ander’s name as the taller boy began thrusting faster. The heat of Omar’s body and his grip on Ander’s cock was driving them both crazy. Omar reached down to palm at his erection but Ander quickly grabbed his wrist, preventing him from doing so.

When he looked into Ander’s eyes, Omar saw hunger, lust and possessiveness and Ander’s voice came out as a deep growl when he said, “I want to see you come undone by my cock alone.”

Omar groaned at the comment, pushing his body up to dig his heels into Ander’s lower back. He wrapped his arms around Ander’s neck to drew him down for a crashing kiss that was more teeth than anything else. Ander tossed his head back and squeezed Omar’s waist, slowing his movements until he was removing himself completely. The catch of his cockhead on Omar’s rim had him seeing stars. 

“On your hands and knees,” Ander commanded.

When Omar accommodated himself on the bed, Ander took a minute to appreciate the view. Omar’s head was bent downwards and his ass was pushed back by the tilt of his hips. Ander slid the head of his cock along the cleft of Omar’s ass, delighting in the way Omar’s breath hitched. He didn’t tease for long, though, immediately re-entering the tight heat and beginning slow thrusts that penetrated Omar deeper and deeper. Not being able to touch himself was unbearable. With every time that Ander plunged into his body, Omar was stuttering out heavy breaths.

“Nene...touch me, please. Do something,” Omar begged.

Ander’s only response was a throaty moan before he took one index finger and traced it deliberately up the knobs of Omar’s spine. The sensation was a counterpoint to the feeling of Ander’s dick working inside him and Omar felt goosebumps break out in the wake of that simple touch.

The taller boy leaned forward, angling in a different way until he found a spot deep within his boyfriend’s body that caused Omar to freeze and shout his name. Ander brought a heavy hand to the back of Omar’s neck and began snapping his hips in tighter, more controlled motions, rubbing against that spot repeatedly. He was almost covering the boy beneath him, their bodies sticking together with sweat.

Ander sank his teeth into the side of Omar’s neck as Omar’s ass clenched impossibly tightly around him. The pain that sparked from Ander’s bite, mixed with the pleasure of his boyfriend’s dick hitting the right place inside of him caused Omar to climax with a scream. His cock jerked and emptied ropes of come onto his stomach and the sheets. His throat felt raw from all the moaning. Through the haze of pleasure spreading through his body, he was dimly aware of Ander’s voice, vocalising one word repeatedly – “Mine. Mine. Mine.” – while continuing to pound into his Omar, chasing his own release. It didn’t take much longer before Omar felt Ander still inside of him and let go with a long sigh. Omar’s lips parted slightly to whisper Ander’s name as he felt his release deep within him.

As he came down from his high, Ander trailed his lips over the skin of Omar’s back in his line of vision, before removing his softening cock. Omar gingerly rolled over and accepted Ander into his arms.

“You know you’re the only one for me, right?” Omar said in a low murmur, running his fingers over Ander’s chest and tweaking at a nipple.

“Hmmm,” Ander hummed in assent, cuddling in close against Omar’s body.

A beat passed and then Ander looked around at his boyfriend. “The next time, I’ll be your date.”

Omar kissed the top of his head and squeezed his arm gratefully. “You’re always my first choice.”

Ander’s answer was swift. “I should be your _only_ choice!”

“First and only,” Omar amended.

This response seemed to satisfy Ander and he settled back down into Omar’s arms, closing his eyes contentedly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who read, left kudos, commented, lurked around anonymously and liked this story. I appreciate all kinds of feedback!
> 
> As we all count the days down till Season 4, I hope everyone continues to find joy in the small things and continues to be safe and happy. 
> 
> Much love to you all.


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